When In Rome
by Twiglet Queen
Summary: Cheesy fluff fic based on Virgil's Aeneid. Okay, fine, it's not Greek mythology but there isn't a Roman section. Contains mm and gross amounts of cliche. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/N:  _Welcome to the product of a deluded imagination.  I hereby surrender my slash virginity to my Classics buddies, Alix and Fliss.  But mainly Alix, who introduced me to the wonderful world of fanfiction.  I suppose I should be grateful for that.  This will make a hell of a lot more sense if you've read the Aeneid, but if you haven't I wouldn't recommend it.  It's a boring pile of tripe._

Aeneas rested his elbows on the bow as his fleet drifted along, waiting for Pallanteum to float into view.  Everything seemed to be going wrong since he had landed in Italy and he had so wished to make a fresh start, to put all his previous mistakes behind him.  And here he was, rowing the wrong way up a river after some strange hallucination trying to get allies for a pointless war to fight over some girl he'd accidentally got engaged to.  The Fates, it would seem, were against him.  He didn't even want Lavinia, she was bloody minging, and she wore too much blusher to boot.  Still, at least she didn't talk.  He had a feeling she'd have a really high-pitched annoying voice if she did.

Aeneas sighed and brushed his hair out of his eyes.  He never seemed to have much luck with the ladies.  Although, to be fair, that may not entirely be their fault.

He could hear footsteps approaching him and prepared for the worst.  It came.

'Hey big guy,' a breathy voice practically drooled in his ear, 'what you pouting about? Need some cheering up?'

Aeneas turned round to see Achates looking hopeful; his left eyebrow raised in what he presumed was supposed to be a seductive manner.  The Trojan hero shuddered.  His self-titled 'right hand man' had been hounding him ever since that drunken night in Actium.  Aeneas had blamed the oil of course.  Olive oil can make even the most pious man...eager to try out alternative uses.

'I was just thinking about my love life.  It never seems to go right, y'know?  Maybe the Fates have marked me out to be alone.  I was thinking of becoming a Catholic priest. What do you reckon?'

Father Aeneas rolled his eyes at the mildly confused expression on Achates' face.  The joke was lost on him.  He'd obviously never heard of that little underground cult.  Oh well, it probably wasn't that important; it wasn't as if it would ever catch on.

He sighed again and went back to scanning the horizon.  A thick plume of smoke wafted towards them bringing with it a faint hint of barbecue beef.  Now this was more like it.  Under Aeneas' orders, Achates skipped off like an over-excited puppy dog to find an amphora of tomato ketchup for a hostess gift.

Aeneas watched in amusement as the Arcadians ran about in blind panic when they saw the ships.  'Perhaps I should have taken the armour off first,' he mused, although considering his summer 'wardrobe', that may have shocked them more.  He silently fought down a dirty grin as a figure to his left caught his eye.

A lone young man was climbing the hill next to the ship.  Whatever it was that Aeneas had been thinking about previously was quickly forgotten as his eyes were drawn towards the strong thighs striding purposefully towards him.  A wave of lust swept over him as his gaze travelled up to the ceremonial lion skin, which skimmed over the boy's perfect bronzed shoulders.  

            'What is it, warriors, that has driven you to try these new paths...'

The youth's words washed over Aeneas as his insides melted at the bold, confident voice, which somehow belied a sense of innocence.  He could not have been more than 17 years old.  Unable to tear himself away from those beautiful dark blue eyes, he suddenly realised why the Fates had taken his wife away from him.  Aeneas broke into a wide smile as he reached for his olive branch.  Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Pallas, unable to sleep, sat with his back to the wall, straining to hear the sounds of Aeneas' breathing in the room next door. He hadn't stopped thinking about him since the Trojan ships had arrived at Pallanteum, manned with great warriors in glinting armour. The memory made him smile, especially the deliciously wicked grin Aeneas had had on his face when he had first seen him.  
  
Pallas' father had told him all about the brave and noble Trojans when he was young, but for some reason he had always pictured them as dirty foreigners, a bit hairy and greasy, like the guy with halitosis who always wanted to rub oil into his back at the symposia, rather than devilishly attractive as Aeneas was. His hair, far from being greasy, shone like ebony as it fell in soft curls around his ears. A light covering of stubble surrounded his lips, which always curled up at one corner when he caught Pallas' eye, like he was smiling at some private joke. And his eyes...his piercing green eyes...  
  
Pallas shook his head and swallowed. He shouldn't be fantasising about a man twice his age, particularly one engaged to an Italian princess. He gritted his teeth. Probably some beautiful, chaste maiden, with thousands of guys pining after her, who would make Aeneas happy for the rest of his life. Bitch.  
  
Casting Lavinia from his mind, he smiled as he remembered the promise Aeneas had made to his father to protect him. So many opportunities to be with him, to prove himself as a true man in battle, to win the heart of the Trojans. Or just to win the heart of Aeneas. To ride off into the sunset together. To sit staring into each other's eyes for eternity. To fulfil every nauseating cliché in the book. Pallas lay back onto his bed and sighed. Everyone knew Aeneas wasn't that way inclined. He had a son after all.  
  
He thought back to the day Aeneas had spent with them. He had barely left his side after their eyes had met over the guest kylix. He grinned as he remembered how cute the great glory of Troy looked when he pouted and stuck his tongue out at Pallas' fit of giggles. Well, he had looked incredibly silly in that poplar wreath. It was too big for him and kept slipping over his eyebrows. Not that Pallas had been watching him all day. He had been paying attention to the festival of course. Something about Hercules, the heroic and courageous blah blah blah something or other. Mind you, Aeneas seemed to have been having trouble concentrating too. His gaze was constantly roaming around the room, subtly flicking back to Pallas every now and then. Probably thinking 'Why does that strange boy keep staring at me?'  
  
Then again, he couldn't be entirely sure that the way Aeneas' hand had brushed his thigh as they walked around the city had been an accident.  
  
Pallas groaned as he realised he was setting himself up for disappointment. Squashing an ant with his thumb as a makeshift sacrifice, he offered a desperate prayer up to the Goddess of Love to take these dreams away from him, or else to... A torrent of lewd images rushed through Pallas' mind. Man, he needed to cool off. Grabbing a towel, he left his room and headed for the river.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
A contented smile spread over Venus' face as she watched Love wrestle Destiny into the dirt. Now this was good viewing. Let Juno keep her silly war, this was far more her kinda thing. Settling back into her sofa, she turned to Cupid and held out an offering.  
'Popcorn?' 


	3. Chapter 3

Aeneas couldn't sleep. Though he was grateful for the bed Evander had set up for him with no prior warning, he was getting a little pissed off with the leaves getting stuck in annoying places. He also couldn't help feeling guilty about promising to protect Pallas. He wasn't entirely sure Evander's ideas of protection were the same as his. To make matters worse, the one time he did fall asleep, he was woken by a disturbing dream in which his mum and his half brother were sprawled across a bright pink sofa, stuffing their faces with buttered popcorn and laughing at him.  
  
Getting up from his bed, Aeneas wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and left for the city. He wondered what it was about Pallanteum that made him feel so at home. He liked the place, the atmosphere was so relaxed and the people so friendly, despite the fact that their spare wreaths evidently weren't made for human heads. He would miss it when he left. Still, at least he was taking the best part with him.  
  
He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of a splash in the river. Walking towards the Thybris, Aeneas parted the trees in time to see Pallas emerge to the waist, pushing his hair back as the water ran down his spine. The young man's lightly toned back gently tapered down to the surface of the dark water, where a perfect reflection rose up to meet it.  
'Shouldn't you be in bed young man?' Aeneas said, half joking, half stunned at the sight of the naked youth bathing before him. Pallas spun round, mouth open in shock, the moonlit ripples reflecting on his torso.  
'I...um...' A steady blush crept up the boy's cheeks.  
'Couldn't sleep?' Pallas shook his head. 'Me neither.' He was tugging at his earlobe and avoiding Aeneas' gaze, obviously embarrassed at the situation.  
'Come on, we should get back. It's getting cold.'  
'Yeah, You're right.' Pallas waded towards the bank and stopped. 'Um... would you...uh...'  
'Oh. Sorry.' Disappointed, Aeneas turned his back as his Adonis climbed out of the water, looking back only once to see the hem of a tunic slide over perfectly rounded buttocks.  
  
Grinning silently in the dark, Aeneas waited for Pallas to tie up his sandals before heading back to Evander's palace. The boy walked up to Aeneas and smiled sheepishly, still shivering slightly from the cold, and trying not to show his embarrassment at what had happened. Dutiful Aeneas couldn't help but wonder whether chivalry worked on men. Unsure whether it was Pallas' vulnerable Andrex puppy eyes, or the sudden desire to strip in front of him that spurred him on, he undid his cloak and tied it around the boy's shoulders, perhaps leaving his hand there a little too long before he carried on walking.  
  
The awkward silence between them was broken by Pallas.  
'What were you thinking about?'  
'When?'  
'When you couldn't sleep I mean.' Aeneas was a little thrown by this. He couldn't remember much beyond the river incident.  
'Lavinia I suppose.'  
'Oh.' Pallas looked crestfallen. Something flipped in Aeneas' stomach thinking about what he had just said to him.  
'I mean, she may be an irritating bint but I guess I'm not really being fair on her.'  
'Really?' The young man had perked up a bit at the 'irritating bint' part, 'What do you mean?'  
'Well, I'm still engaged to her, but,' Aeneas stopped and turned to face the Prince of the Arcadians, 'I've fallen for someone else.' Their eyes locked as a peal of thunder burst above their heads. The great Trojan rolled his eyes.  
'Bloody meddling mother,' he muttered 'I can do this by myself, thank you very much.' He smiled as he turned back to Pallas.  
'That's a sign, you know.' Pallas' brow furrowed.  
'A sign of what?' Aeneas smiled and shook his head.  
'Never mind, come on.'  
  
It didn't take long for the aftermath of his mother's pointed hint to catch up with them. They started to walk faster in a vain attempt to get back indoors before they were completely soaked, but it appeared that someone had other ideas. They ended up running to get under cover as the rain came down heavier and heavier. Suddenly, Pallas grabbed Aeneas by the elbow and dragged him under some trees.  
'We can find shelter under here.' Aeneas looked up and laughed. The rain still poured down on them through the canopy above.  
'A fine shelter this is young hero! What exactly were you planning to do next?' He turned back just in time to see the nervous expression on the young man's face before Pallas lunged forward to kiss him. Aeneas had to admit, he was quite impressed, albeit surprised, that this shy young man was making the first move, although a little put out that he hadn't come up with it first. Pallas' lips were pressed tightly against his, and were trembling slightly until Aeneas realised too late that he wasn't responding to the kiss. Pallas jerked away, and seeing the look of shock on the Trojan's face stared at the ground and bit his lower lip in shame.  
'I'm sorry. I thought. I didn't. I mean.... Oh Fuck. You're not going to tell my father are you?'  
'Well I don't know Pallas.' Aeneas smirked shamelessly. 'We haven't done anything worth hiding have we? Yet.'  
  
Pallas looked back up, flushing with renewed hope as Aeneas stepped closer. Slowly he snaked his hand up the Trojan's neck, and twisting his fingers in his dripping hair, pulled him close to kiss him again. Their lips met, already wet from the downpour, and leaning into the kiss, Aeneas wrapped his arms around the prince's waist. Pallas' inhibitions fell away to be replaced by passion as they kissed more fervently, a desperate moan rising in his throat. He ran his tongue along Aeneas' top lip, gently parting his mouth and tasting the Trojan hero, the lust burning up within them.  
  
Aeneas sighed deeply as he pulled Pallas into his chest, his hands sliding ever southwards. He felt the young man tense momentarily before Pallas pushed him to the ground and devoured his throat, following a trail of water down the Trojan's collarbone with his tongue...  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The faint scent of the rain was still in the air as the two men curled around each other, far too exhausted to be bothered about the cold. Aeneas smiled and laced his fingers with his lover's.  
"Greek hospitality rocks." Pallas turned to him and gave a wry laugh.  
"You should see what goes on at the symposia." 


	4. Chapter 4

Aeneas yawned as the ship flew silently over the wine-dark waters.  He hadn't been getting too much sleep recently for...various reasons.  He would never have thought, a week ago, coming as a suppliant to King Evander, practically begging for allies, that he would now be returning with his treasured son – a youth with a heart of gold and a body like mortal sin.

He glanced over at the young man lying asleep on the bench near him, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with the waves, and longed to plant a trail of kisses all the way down...but then who was he to wake someone whose eyelashes grazed their cheekbones?  That kind of thing just wasn't done.  Besides it would be just the finishing touch to push Achates over the edge.  Poor man had taken to drinking unwatered milk since he had found out about Pallas.  Come to think of it, Gyas was looking rather mutinous as well, and he _really_ wasn't to be trusted onboard a ship.

Instead, Aeneas consented himself to studying Pallas' new baldric, which was lying next to that hideous shield Venus had given him ("Its very rare dear, made by naked Cyclopes you know."  "Err...thank you mother.").  The gold baldric, an eighteenth birthday gift, was engraved with a group of young men massacring each other, presumably to increase the young prince's confidence in the coming war.  In the very centre, a young man faltered, dying, trying desperately to pull a spear out of his breast as a taller man stood over him, incensed with lust for battle and laughing cruelly.  

Aeneas looked away quickly, his eyes stinging, and stalked away from his usual spot on the bow, muttering curses under his breath.  What on earth would he do if he lost him?  He clenched his fists and mentally slapped himself.

            "Shit Aeneas.  Stop acting like a stupid lovesick little girl.  You can't let one man come between you and your destiny.  This is foreordained by the bloody Gods. Pallas can take care of himself."

It was true.  Aeneas had watched Pallas practising many times with the crew, and he definitely knew how to handle a sword.  But he was only just a man, and Turnus...well he had seen Turnus in action and he was not a force to be reckoned with.  

He closed his eyes and wished, wished circumstances were different, wished he wasn't leading Pallas into a hopeless battle beside him.  But things weren't different, this was his role in life, and Man was not supposed to go against Fate.  Destiny was stronger than Love.  These things had been proved a thousand times before.  He was Aeneas, the hero, the survivor, the leader of the Trojan people, who would bring them to a new life in a prosperous land and would father a line of great men.  He had seen all the signs.  He couldn't go against all the God's wills.  He couldn't defy his mother and father.  He had a duty to uphold, dammit.  He wouldn't let Juno win.  There was no way he could let her get what she wanted if it meant leaving Lavinia to Turnus.  And he couldn't leave his son alone as the new and beloved king of a city that the Italians would never let him keep unless Turnus got what he wanted which was what had already been promised to Aeneas and...wait a minute...

"FINE!" he yelled at the sky, "FINE! YOU WIN! ARE YOU LISTENING JUNO? YOU BLOODY WIN!! YOU CAN KEEP YOUR IDIOT LATINS. I GIVE UP!"

A pair of strong arms caught him about the waist and Pallas kissed him on the cheek.  Evidently, he had been awoken by Aeneas' enthusiastic little epiphany.

            "What you shouting about?"

            "Um. I've been thinking. About the war and all, and I-"

            "No."

Aeneas stepped back, a little confused.

            "What?

            "No. I'm not backing out.  I know it's a war.  I know it's dangerous.  I know either one of us could die, but I'm prepared to die for you.  I love you."

Aeneas heart leapt and he put a hand on Pallas' shoulder.

            "Are you nervous?"

            "No.  Well maybe a little." Pallas' brave face was beginning to slip as he looked away from Aeneas. "We aren't going to win, are we."

To Pallas' surprise, the Trojan laughed and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

            "We already have Pallas." He grinned and rested his head on the boy's shoulder.  "Now, I know a great place on the West coast of Greece."

And with a swing of the tiller, they left the rest of the fleet and set sail for Actium.

_~FIN~_


End file.
